


The Prodigal Son

by LuxKen27



Category: Monarch of the Glen
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4854680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxKen27/pseuds/LuxKen27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode 1x1. Lexie finds herself with more questions than answers when Molly announces that it’s time to bring Archie back to Glenbogle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prodigal Son

**Author's Note:**

> _Author’s Note_ : Written for the unsaid prompt for my [2015 Summer Mini Challenge](http://luxken27.dreamwidth.org/759831.html) table. Further author's notes can be found [here](https://luxken27.dreamwidth.org/764044.html). 
> 
> **DISCLAIMER** : The _Monarch of the Glen_ concept, storyline, and characters are © 2000-2005 Michael Chaplin/Ecosse Films/BBC Scotland. No money is being made from the creation of this material. No copyright infringement is intended.

~*~

Witnessing Hector’s fall into the loch had been upsetting, but not exactly surprising. His bloodlust for Big Eric was legendary, and he was well-known for rushing headlong into scrapes. So jet-skiing across the loch in pursuit of the infamous monarch of the glen was, for Hector, nothing out of the ordinary.

But when he didn’t immediately surface after tumbling into the water, the entire complexion of the situation changed.

After Golly and Duncan fished him out and settled him in his room with a bottle of his favorite whiskey, Molly gathered the estate’s trusted staff in the kitchen for a meeting. It was an entirely somber affair, and trepidation filled the air even before a word was spoken.

Molly gazed at each of her staff in turn as she settled into her seat. “It’s time to bring Archie home,” she announced to the room at large.

Silence greeted her in response.

Golly cleared his throat. “Are you sure that’s wise?” he asked, a note of unease in his tone the only hint of concern in his otherwise staid expression.

Molly smiled. “No, not entirely,” she replied with a half-shrug, “but what else can we do? Hector can’t keep on like this.”

Lexie exchanged a long look with Duncan. His forehead was creased with concern as he turned back to Molly. “Who’s Archie?”

Molly appeared surprised by the question, but then her expression softened. “Oh, Duncan, of course you wouldn’t know,” she said as she gazed at the youngest, newest member of the estate staff. “Archie is my son.”

“Oh,” Duncan murmured, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Now, he won’t _want_ to come back, much less stay,” Molly barged on, “so we’ll have to have a plan. Cover our contingencies, and all that.” She paused, spearing each of them in turn with a deadly serious look. “And under no circumstances must Hector find out about this,” she warned them. “It will only upset him further.”

“So when is Boy Wonder flying back in?” Lexie asked sardonically, crossing her arms over her chest.

Molly considered her response. “I’ll call him tomorrow,” she decided, “and tell him about the accident.”

“That doesn’t give us much time,” Lexie said.

Duncan peered at her. “Time for what?”

Lexie rolled her eyes. “Time to prepare for the return of the heir apparent,” she informed him tersely.

Golly shook his head, an enigmatic smile curving the corner of his mouth as he rose from his seat, apparently done with the meeting. “I wouldn’t exactly call him that,” he mused. “More like, the prodigal son.”

~*~

Lexie tossed and turned that night, unable to completely let go of Molly’s pronouncement. She’d been a member of the household staff for the better part of five years now, having started as a maid and worked her way up to her current position as housekeeper, but she had yet to lay eyes on Hector’s and Molly’s son.

She knew he existed – or, at least, that he _had_ , once upon a time. All three of the MacDonald children still had rooms there, albeit in a wing of the house that had long since been closed off. But they were rarely ever discussed – hardly surprising, really, given the tragedy of eldest son Jamie’s death. Apparently Archie and Lizzie had left Glenbogle for good shortly after that, with only the erstwhile daughter bothering to come back since.

Lexie had heard little tell of Archie over the years, from his family or from the estate’s dwindling staff. What she _did_ know was that whenever anyone so much as mentioned his name to Hector, he went off the deep end. He’d never had anything good to say about his only remaining son; “useless” and “disappointment” just about covered the long and short of it, as far as Hector was concerned.

So it had definitely been a shock to hear that Molly now wanted her son to come back; to stay, apparently against his will; and for what? To take over the duties of the laird from the aging Hector?

Lexie wasn’t sure how she felt about that, either. Hector was old and eccentric and set in his ways, but she _knew_ his ways. She knew how to deal with his bawdy sense of humor, his penchant for running around in little more than a ratty old bath towel, and his terrible singing – a morning ritual that roused every soul on the estate, and probably the entire glen, for that matter. She knew what kind of meals he liked, and she had set up her housekeeping schedule around his daily routines, because she had long ago learned how to pick her battles.

But all of that would change if someone new – someone young – came in and took over. What were the chances that she’d still be allowed to hang her laundry up in the rafters of the kitchen to dry, or to blast her music from three rooms over while she cleaned, or to cultivate wild mushrooms in the little hollowed out log just outside the kitchen door? 

She’d only just taken over cooking duties in the last year, after the chef had defected to Kilwillie Castle and taken the entirety of his staff along with him. She wasn’t very good at it, but she tried hard and was eager to learn. Would a new laird have the patience for that, or would he want to hire someone with a modicum of talent, who could make food that didn’t taste like shoe leather?

And why had he left in the first place? She could understand an estrangement from the prickly Hector, but from Molly, as well? The matriarch of the family was kind-hearted to a fault, but she wasn’t a pushover. Lexie couldn’t imagine that Molly _wouldn’t_ have taken up the cause for her children when and if Hector ever railed against them. She’d defended Lizzie, at least, in the face of Hector’s vitriol.

Molly had made it sound as if summoning Archie home would be a difficult task – and keeping him there, even harder. It was another thing that Lexie couldn’t quite wrap her mind around. From the moment she’d laid eyes on Glenbogle House, she’d fallen in love. It was absolutely breathtaking, the gray stone walls and domed turrets looming over the landscape, surrounded by fog-ringed mountains and the dark waters of the loch. It was like something out of a fairy tale.

She still pinched herself sometimes, unable to believe that she called such a beautiful place home, even if she spent most of her time cleaning it rather than admiring it.

She definitely couldn’t understand how anyone who had been raised there would leave it _voluntarily_ and never return.

Which made her wonder – did he?

~*~

Lexie and Duncan managed to corner Golly the next morning at breakfast.

“So tell us about him,” Lexie demanded without preamble, sliding into the chair across from the rugged ghillie at the kitchen table in his modest croft. “What are we in for?”

Golly shrugged, cutting into his omelet with his fork. “Archie?” he clarified, flicking a glance at Duncan for confirmation.

The junior ranger nodded solemnly, watching rather longingly as Golly dug into his breakfast.

After a long moment, Golly finally spoke. “Archie is…complicated,” he told his fellow staff members.

Duncan and Lexie exchanged a worried glance. 

“What do you mean?” Duncan asked warily.

Golly ate a few more bites of his omelet as he considered his response. “He and Hector had a terrible row nearly ten years ago,” he revealed. “A real screamer. Archie stormed out of the Big House and vowed never to step foot in it again.”

Lexie’s brows rose. Hector could certainly be cantankerous, and had actually managed to run off some of the house staff, but it was hard to imagine him showing his own heir the door. Lizzie, at least, at enough spirit to match her father’s temper, challenging him barb for barb. What did it say about Archie that he couldn’t do that? That he was weak-willed? Or perhaps just a spoiled, entitled brat unwilling to lift a finger to cultivate his own fortune?

“So he wanted to shirk his duties, eh?” she mused aloud, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. “But not his privileged lifestyle, I’ll bet.” 

She had no use for the idle rich, and certainly didn’t wish to suddenly be subjected to their whims.

Golly shook his head. “No, lass, you’ve got it wrong,” he replied. “He might’ve run away, but _he_ ’s not the one sucking money out of the estate.” He gave his companions a pointed look before continuing. “Last I heard, he was down in London, working on a posh restaurant with his girlfriend.”

Duncan looked surprised at this. “So he’s not afraid of hard work?” he murmured, casting a glance towards Lexie.

She snorted. “Right, because running a fully-staffed restaurant is so difficult,” she groused. 

Golly finished his breakfast and pushed his plate away. “Its _work_ ,” he reminded her. “At least the lad is making a go of it, unlike wee Lizzie.”

Lexie hated to concede his point, but he was right. Lizzie, at thirty, was still something of a wild child, drifting from job to job in the volatile world of public relations. She was fired more often than she was hired, and while she did come home to Glenbogle occasionally, it was only when she was totally out of cash, or needed a place to hide out, away from her latest snafu. She was a nice enough person, in Lexie’s estimation, but she suffered from a decidedly entitled lack of follow-through.

Beside her, Duncan fidgeted. “So if he’s not afraid of hard work,” he wondered aloud, “then what’s the problem? Molly seems to think it’ll take an act of God to get him up here.”

Golly stood, donning his coat, and carried his plate to the sink. “She’s right,” he agreed as he rinsed his dishes. “He has a terrible stubborn streak.”

“Wonder where he got that from,” Lexie mumbled under her breath.

Golly heard her comment, and quirked a half-smile. “It might not take an act of the Almighty, but it will require some – cunning,” he told them. “You know, Archie was never supposed to be the next laird. It was supposed to be Jamie. He had been brought up for it, had the education for it. But then…” 

He shrugged. “Archie was never the Golden Boy, and I don’t think Hector has ever forgiven him for it.”

With that, Golly dug into the pocket of his coat, producing a set of keys. “C’mon, lad,” he said, nodding to Duncan. “You’ll be picking Himself up from the station tomorrow, so go give the Land Rover a wash.”

Duncan’s eyes lit up as he caught the keys that Golly tossed to him. “Really?!” he breathed, looking up in awe. His penchant for collecting speeding tickets meant he didn’t get to drive off the estate much.

Golly nodded. “Molly wants you to help at the house when he arrives,” he informed him, “so go, before I change my mind.”

Duncan was out of his seat like a shot, barging out of Golly’s cottage and bounding down the hills towards the Big House. 

Lexie rose as well, albeit much slower. “So that’s why he’s coming back? To become the next laird?” she questioned warily. “Are you sure?”

Golly shot her an assessing look. “He already _is_ the laird,” he replied, pulling on his weather-beaten old cap. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

~*~

“Oh, Lexie, dear, I’m glad I found you,” Molly called, hurrying across the frayed carpeting in the foyer. Lexie was standing on a ladder in the green salon, arms akimbo as she attempted to clear the dust from the top of the heavy velvet curtains.

Molly came to an abrupt halt at the foot of the ladder and peered up at her housekeeper. “Would you mind terribly to air out Archie’s old room? I should think he’d like to have it again while he’s here.”

 _She makes it sound like a visit instead of a homecoming_ , Lexie thought to herself as she trooped down. _Surely if he’s the laird, he’ll stay and run the estate? Surely he won’t –_ sell _the place!_

She stilled, a cold shudder rolling down her back. The possibility of selling the estate hadn’t really occurred to her, mostly because Hector would never allow it. The aging laird had been born on that estate and, as he’d told them all more than once, he intended to die there. Surely his own son and heir wouldn’t sell it right out from under him, just to spite him, then throw them all out and simply traipse off to London again!

She scowled. Glenbogle was her home now. Finding it had been her salvation, her reward for surviving years of absolute hell in the slums of Glasgow with her sociopathic mother. She’d struck out on her own and had found the fairytale castle of her childhood dreams – and she felt needed and appreciated and comfortable and wanted there. She’d worked so hard to make it this far, and she wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.

 _Well, you know what they say: know thy enemy_ , she mused to herself. Molly had just presented her with the perfect opportunity to gather some intelligence and prepare herself before the prodigal son even arrived. She schooled her features into a calm expression as she faced her. “I’d be happy to,” she managed with a tight smile. “Remind me again which one it is?”

Molly gazed at her assessingly for a long moment before turning on her heel, beckoning for Lexie to follow. “I’ll show you.”

Lexie wordlessly obeyed, her mind working overtime as they climbed the stairs and weaved their way into the west wing of the house. She thought about everything she’d learned about Archie in the last day or so, and couldn’t stop the trepidation that rose in her chest in response. She never thought she’d find herself siding with Hector, of all people, but she couldn’t really see what good could come out of bringing the heir apparent home and forcing him into duties he obviously didn’t want. Was it worth the gamble of him washing his hands of the lot of them and turning them out, thereby conveniently ridding himself of his family and the estate that he apparently could care less about?

“Here it is,” Molly murmured, drawing to a halt in front of a door at the end of a corridor. She pulled a set of keys from her pocket and slid one of them in, the lock giving way freely – making Lexie suspect that perhaps this room hadn’t been sealed off quite as tightly as she’d been led to believe.

Molly reached for the doorknob, but withdrew her hand at the last second, turning instead to face Lexie. “Don’t think so harshly of him,” she pleaded quietly. “He didn’t want to leave. He loves this old house, and the estate.”

“Then why did he go?” Lexie asked.

Molly merely shrugged, pressing the key to the room into Lexie’s hand. “Thank you, dear,” she murmured, before setting off down the hall.

Lexie sighed, reaching for the doorknob and giving it a twist. The door swung open without protest, revealing a relatively small, cluttered room that didn’t appear to have seen daylight in the last century. She wrinkled her nose as she crossed the threshold, taking in the mustiness of the air, and walked straight across the room to the window, throwing open the curtains and lifting the sash. She leaned against the sill for a moment, taking in a deep breath of the cool, fresh air. The view of the estate from this side of the house was absolutely breathtaking – an unobstructed view of the cloud-ringed mountains just beyond the dark waters of the loch. 38,000 acres of natural forest surrounded the over-developed plot of land that housed the castle, stretching out in every direction as far as the eye could see. One would have to despise the outside world entirely to ever tire of such a view.

“How could he ever leave this place?” she murmured to herself, squinting as the clouds parted, sunshine flooding the picturesque scene, the waters of the loch shimmering under the breeze.

With a reluctant sigh, she turned around, gazing about the room with a critical eye. What could she possibly learn about the man who used to call this room home? After all, so much had changed in the ten years since he’d stepped foot in it – and all that was left was what he’d left behind.

It was a fairly typical teenage boy’s room, with posters plastered over the cream-colored walls, the various pieces of furniture covered with the clutter of youth, a drum set wedged in one corner. The only thing that _wasn’t_ typical was the neatness of it all: no clothes strewn on the floor, no unmade bed, no piles of crumbs or layers of dust anywhere in sight.

She quirked a smile as she studied the posters on the wall; he had decent enough taste in music, with everything from Bob Marley to Joy Division on display. Reference books were lined up on the shelf above the desk, alphabetized by subject and author; the computer that took up half the surface below was ancient – she hadn’t seen quite such a relic since her junior high days back in Glasgow.

She pulled open a drawer of the bureau, surprised to see that it was chock full of clothes. She leaned down and took a discreet sniff, surprised – yet somehow, not – to find that they didn’t absolutely reek from years of disuse. Digging around in the drawer confirmed her suspicions, as she discovered a small block of scented mothballs buried in the middle of it all.

She hadn’t put it there – she hadn’t stepped foot into any of the children’s rooms in all her time living on the estate. Even Lizzie opted for a room in the main wing when she was home, one that was much larger than this and painted a garish red.

So that could only mean that Molly had kept this room from falling into a state of total disrepair. 

But why? Had she secretly always held out hope that her youngest child would someday come home? 

Or had she been planning this little scheme long before Hector fell into the loch?

“You never cease to amaze me, Molly,” Lexie murmured under her breath as she restacked the clothes and pushed the drawer shut. 

She tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans as she wandered over to the bed. _I wonder if he has a family_ , she mused to herself, tugging at the still-crisp corner of the pillowcase. She smirked at the idea of some posh London tart accompanying him, only to discover that she was expected to share a narrow twin bed in a teenage boy’s bedroom with her now-adult husband. Or maybe she’d insist that their child have this room, while she commandeered a larger room elsewhere in the house.

Hell, maybe _he_ would – nobody of his class could live in London for that long without picking up a heaping helping of snobbery. His sister certainly hadn’t managed it. And if he was bringing children along, too? God help them all – it was hard enough to keep Duncan out of mischief! 

The longer she lingered in that room, the more uncertain she felt about this whole business of him coming home. A new laird, with his own family to look after, would probably want to hire his own staff, if he even bothered to stay there at all. Golly and Duncan were fairly safe in their respective positions as ghillie and ranger, working the land of the estate, but her place in the Big House was much more tenuous. She could hardly call herself much of a cook, and it wasn’t as if housekeeping was some sort of specialized skill set.

She forced herself to take a deep breath. _Don’t get ahead of yourself, Lex_ , she thought. _Give Molly some credit – if Archie was bringing more than just himself, she wouldn’t have bothered with his old room. She is nothing if not the consummate hostess._

The thought did soothe her, but the doubt still niggled at her as she exited the room and pulled the door closed behind her.

~*~

Lexie paced around the front foyer of the house the next morning, stopping every so often to look out the windows towards the expansive front drive. Duncan had left nearly half an hour ago to pick up Himself from the train station, and Lexie wanted to make sure she got a good, long look at Archie the moment he arrived, just so she’d know what she was up against.

Hector had taken the news of his son’s imminent arrival better than she’d expected. He’d come down with a cold after his misadventure in the loch, so he wasn’t quite as tetchy as usual. Molly had insisted that he be served breakfast in bed, which also mollified him, though he did make a point to complain over the lack of Marmite soldiers to accompany his eggs.

Lexie had laid out a spread in the dining room as well, one that had gone mostly untouched as of yet. She’d done her best with the breakfast dishes, unsure of what the new laird might want after the long journey from London, but she’d stuck with what she knew to be foolproof. The last thing she wanted was for Mr. Restaurateur to come in and criticize her cooking. 

She was supposed to be upstairs cleaning the bathrooms, but she couldn’t stop herself from lingering in the foyer instead. She wondered what he’d think when he saw the estate again. When he’d left a decade ago, there had been more than a hundred and fifty workers employed by the family to keep the house and estate running; now there were just four. The odd man out was Fraser, the estate manager, who’d wormed his way into Hector’s good graces but had only served to isolate everyone else.

Interestingly enough, Molly had only mentioned Archie’s return to Fraser that morning. Not that he’d been around the Big House in the last few days to hear about it from anyone else; he spent most of his time locked up in the estate office, doing God knows what. 

It had been worth it to see the look on Fraser’s face. If anybody needed to be sacked, in Lexie’s estimation, it was him. He was very secretive about his management of the estate, and they all suspected that he wasn’t exactly doing his level best to keep them afloat. How Archie reacted to meeting him would go a long way in taking the measure of his character. 

The revving of an engine and the crunch of tires on gravel suddenly filled the air, and Lexie darted over to the window just in time to see the Land Rover come to a screeching halt in front of the house. Duncan bounded out of the driver’s side with his usual ceaseless energy, running around to the back to retrieve luggage, no doubt, and Lexie leaned forward, unconsciously drawing her breath as she waited for Archie to emerge from the vehicle.

He exited the confines of the car cautiously, his attention immediately drawn to the house itself. He gazed up at it with an almost haunted look, as if he couldn’t quite believe that he was really there. For a long moment, he simply stood there, his eyes tracing every nook and cranny of the grand façade.

Lexie’s scrutiny of him was equally thorough. He wasn’t at all what she expected; he bore little resemblance to the rest of his family. Unlike his fair-haired parents and sister, Archie was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome, with thick black hair and expressive eyes, his fine, aristocratic features otherwise expressionless. He looked like a man who’d rushed home from the other side of the earth, his clothes simple and elegant, yet rumpled from the overnight train journey.

He also looked like a man who’d rather have been anywhere other than where he was. His eyes told the tale, as did his hesitance to move from his spot in the drive.

Duncan surfaced at Lexie’s side with Archie’s bags. “Well?” he murmured, glancing out the window. “What do you think?”

Lexie smirked. “Tasty,” she replied, cutting her eyes over at her companion just in time to see Duncan grimace. Having an attractive, eligible man on the estate would certainly be a welcome change of pace. If he was anywhere near as decent as his mother thought him to be, he might just prove to be a very nice addition, indeed.

She opened her mouth to say more, but grabbed Duncan’s arm instead when Archie finally started to move towards the entrance of the house.

“C’mon,” she commanded, practically dragging Duncan towards the staircase. “You’d better fill me in.”

“On what?” Duncan replied, stumbling over his feet. “He was totally silent all the way from the station.”

Lexie stopped short as they graced the top of the landing. “Totally? You mean he didn’t say _anything_ to you, not even when you picked him up?”

Duncan furrowed his brow. “Well, he _did_ ask about the boss,” he conceded with a shrug. 

“And what did you tell him?” Lexie asked, digging her fingers into his arm.

Duncan frowned at her. “Exactly what Molly told me to tell him,” he replied hotly, as if he couldn’t believe Lexie doubted his ability to adhere to their plan.

Molly appeared on the landing beside them just in time to hear Duncan’s response. “Good boy,” she murmured, giving Duncan a pat on the shoulder. “Now, go on and take his bags to his room,” she added, giving them a small smile as she began to descend the staircase in anticipation of greeting her long-lost son.

Lexie stayed where she was, falling back into the shadows as she peered around the corner at the scene below. It was all very touching, really, as Archie swept his mother into a cordial embrace and accepted her welcoming kisses. His concern for his father’s health was quite obvious and genuine, and it gave her a bit of hope.

Her heart sank, however, when Hector entered the room and almost immediately began needling his son about his sudden return and his audacity to have a business back in London. _Trust Hector to do his best to ruin this_ , she mused to herself. From what she’d witnessed so far, at least, Archie seemed like a decent lad – Hector’s coldness was so over the top as to be almost laughable.

She had to admire Molly, as well, because she had indeed thought of and planned for every detail. Just as expected, Archie demanded to know what was really going on when his father surfaced in front of him apparently no worse for the wear, and then announced to the world at large that he was leaving immediately.

The only thing that stopped him was Fraser’s sudden appearance. Lexie craned her neck to see what was going on, and felt that tiny bit of hope flare in her chest again when she noticed that Archie was almost immediately suspicious of the slick estate manager.

“Molly, you’re a genius,” Lexie breathed. She’d call it a stroke of luck, but Molly was much cleverer than that. If Archie wouldn’t stay for his father’s sake – and if he cared half as much about the estate as his mother seemed to think he did – then surely he’d stay, at least long enough to root out the corruption that was probably sinking them all.

And, as Lexie herself well knew, all it took was a few days for this place to get under one’s skin. If they could keep him here long enough, then maybe, in spite of his bluster, he’d never want to leave it again.

And that, Lexie considered, could only be a _very_ good thing.


End file.
